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Over Hills And Valleys

Updated on April 21, 2017
Juliet Stewart profile image

Juliet Austin- Is a retired Vocational Rehabilitation Counselor. She enjoys spending time with Family and writing Ode's to Nature.

My Cousin Conley and his Friend in Jamaica. You may not use depict or distribute likeness without written consent of the owners.
My Cousin Conley and his Friend in Jamaica. You may not use depict or distribute likeness without written consent of the owners. | Source

Hills and Vales

By: Juliet Stewart-Austin

As I sit upon the trunk of a tree long dead;

hidden among the banana, and apple trees,

watching the blue, gray skies from atop the mountain region.

Overshadowed by the early morning mist,

I inhale deeply, could life get any more perfect?

The Almond, and jackfruit tree by the road.

The old, dilapidated bamboo club at the bottom of the hill,

cherished memories of Childhood held.

I walked the trail where, as a Child, I sat and read.

The jimbilin tree no longer there.

I envision the hummingbirds sipping

from the nectar of the sweet miniature yellow roses

that would cling to the side of the old wooden structure

that used to make up my home.

Written in 2012 it describes the place in St. Mary Jamaica where my Mothers Family and myself were born. the river than ran from my Grandmothers property across and around the hill to my Fathers property.

Jamaican Apple Native to Ethiopia -very sweet


I hear the familiar call of passersby,

"aawhoo." Inveigling a response that comes easily to my lips.

I glance over my shoulder expecting to see the generation of People

that have walked this very path to freedom.

The Hill People, now long dead.

Their memories now walk the trail

that hidden away by thick foliage.

The fruits in variety; not seen or sampled

by those who have never traveled the untapped Countryside of Jamaica.

Jimbilin- a tart tangy fruit


A sigh of contentment escapes my lips.

I see my Grandmothers People.

They range in color from white to crème,

to chocolate and deep dark overtones, black.

The thread of humanity that binds us with love, and some with hate.

This is my Heritage, my home.

My History, and my story to tell,

the smoke colored blue-green hills,

and lush green valleys holds familiar secrets.

An innocence amidst the poverty.


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    • profile image

      Courtney 2 years ago

      yes I like this article. I'm homesick after reading. Really loved it

    • profile image

      Brenda Simpson 2 years ago

      Wishing I was in the hills breathing the cool misty air. Missing my home.

    • Juliet Stewart profile image

      Juliet Stewart-Austin 2 years ago from San Antonio, TX.

      Aah, yes those beautiful hills. Nostalgic.

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